A Swallow in the Flames
by SheWasUNOwen
Summary: There's a history behind every relationship, and none more strong and binding than that of a best friend. Sometimes something just clicks, and if you're willing to look past his facade, you'll find that everyone has something in common. Oneshot.


Hey, so I'm back! (Though I really doubt anyone will remember me. It's GoodBadAndEverythinInBetween here.)

AIR GEAR FANS UNITE!

So this fic is just a sort of nothing-better-to-do-oneshot, but I did write this with one of my best guy friends in mind. He reminds me so much of Spitfire ;P

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><p>There was a metallic whirr of machinery spinning to a halt, and a young girl dropped down onto the ledge below. Moments later, she reemerged, somersaulting over the railing in a vortex of pink hair.<p>

"Not bad," observed Spitfire calmly, watching her drop into a standstill.

The girl's response was a slight smile and the unfurling of her cupped hands, from which something poked out of. There was a slight chirping noise and a brief movement, wings battering against the steel bars of her fingers.

"You catch birds?"

The girl shook her head vehemently at the flame headed boy's assumptive tone and cold stare. Walking closer, Spitfire could see that her fingers were gentle and soft against the struggling bird. Upon gentle murmuring and stroking, the bird was calmed down enough to hop the short distance into his palm.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Spitfire-san?"

Spitfire's sudden movement startled the bird, which gave a surprised twitter and flew off into the skies. The girl watched, rapt, as it shrunk into a tiny speck, buffeted this way and that by the strong wind currents higher up.

"I don't think we've met…" started Spitfire cautiously.

"The Flame King needs no introduction," answered the girl, in explanation.

His burning gaze met cool grey searchingly. The lips curved into a hint of a smile as he remembered fragments of conversations long gone.

"Simca, the swallow. I see why they call you that now. That bird…?"

"It was," she affirmed.

After a few moments of companionable silence, her voice cut through the air, clear and curious.

"So what's your favourite bird?"

This surprised Spitfire – most of the girls he'd encountered before had merely held long, uninteresting conversations built solely around his celebrity status as a Road King, but Simca was obviously different.

"I…don't have one," he admitted after much hesitation, "what about you? Why the swallow, and not perhaps an eagle?"

Simca was swinging her feet idly as she perched on the railing. At a glance, she looked wonderfully like a swallow herself.

"Physically small and weak, being blown around by winds. Not many can survive and grow up strong," she paused and looked heavenwards.

"But the ones that do… they're the ones that fly free. So independent and dependent at the same time. The ones that leave marks on the clouds. The fork in their tails represent the two roads they can make for themselves. Kill or be killed."

Simca's dreamy expression faded and a mischevious glint lit her eyes.

"Ah, I'm ranting now. Stop me anytime," she laughed.

Spitfire's eyebrows rose.

"Better a crazy girl than a fangirl," he smirked.

"So now I'm crazy."

She laughed and did a double flip backwards into thin air, before kicking off the wall and spiraling back over the railing again.

"Ne…they used to think that the idea of a human flying was crazy, didn't they?"

"Touche," conceded Spitfire meditatively, "you're a lot different from many riders I know."

"And you're more normal than they think. I don't see that kingly façade everyone's been talking about, so am I missing something?" she teased.

"See for yourself, Simca-chan," came the voice, whisper-soft in her ear.

The atmosphere blazed white hot, the blinding flash mirroring a dozen suns. Heat waves billowed around her, gently warm yet scorching. Spitfire stood to her left, his figure glowing cherry red as flames engulfed the sky behind.

"It's alright to be scared," the redhead suddenly reappeared behind Simca, his expression remote and his eyes far away.

The pinkette shook herself out of her trance.

"Royalty's always impressive," she replied airily, studying his calm demeanor with interest.

When he didn't reply, Simca reached out and clasped him on the shoulder, pulling him into a hug. The two sat motionlessly for a while, watching as the sun receded into the sky as the air grew colder around them.

"You're still here."

His tone was icy, laced with an arrogant surprise and a sort of grudging appreciation.

"Would you rather me leave?"

Suddenly he turned and grabbed her.

"Why?"

Simca instinctively knew, as he draped an arm over her shoulders. There was nothing possibly romantic about it, but she just felt so comfortable in his presence.

"They're scared of you, you know," she murmured.

"And you're not."

He was studying her with a quiet intensity now, and she twirled a strand of pink hair around her finger contemplatively.

"A swallow, however much free it might be, always needs a home to go back to, or some form of support," Simca grinned, and tacked on, apparently as an afterthought, "as does an eagle."

The fire in his eyes was back again, clear as bright daylight behind that empty mask of his.

"So don't you stray too far from this Nii-san of yours, Tsubame-chan," he replied.

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><p>D'aww. xD<p> 


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